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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489583">Bangers &amp; Smash</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconelover/pseuds/sconelover'>sconelover</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SHEPSCAPADES [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>According to Simon Snow and also everyone, Don't ask me to explain myself, Goblin smut, Goblins, Goblins are hot, Goblins eat people but not in the way you think, It's Research!, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Shepard Monsterfucker Extraordinaire, Shepscapades, THIS IS JUST FILTH OKAY, Timothee Chalamet - Freeform, Well also in the way you think, shepard from omaha - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:00:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconelover/pseuds/sconelover</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Monster: Goblin<br/>Location: Boston, MA<br/>Contact Info: Adrian, 617-462-5467<br/>Rating: 9/10 (one point removed for imminent danger of being turned into a skin suit)<br/>Notes: Turns out goblins do eat people after all. (I’m fine, Ma.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Shepard/A Goblin, Shepard/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SHEPSCAPADES [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bangers &amp; Smash</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynopoe/gifts">cynopoe</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If goblins are as fit as Simon Snow says, there's no way Shepard hasn't gotten curious as well. All in the name of science...</p><p>Dearest River, your unflagging enthusiasm for sexy goblins makes me so happy. Thank you for drawing them as hot as you do, it's a gift to us all—so here's one in return. </p><p>Also thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherWorldsIveLivedIn/pseuds/OtherWorldsIveLivedIn">Dem</a> and <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/laeve-leve">Emily</a> for beta reading, and for the exchange that started this:<br/>Me: but goblins eat people<br/>Em: he can still get ate</p><p>Also thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/wetheformidables/pseuds/wetheformidables">maxine</a> for the bangers &amp; mash idea hehe.</p><p>Enjoy :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>January 21, 2016</strong>
</p><p>I’m at an Irish pub. It’s not my usual scene, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers—this is where I was told they hang out. So far, the only real plan I have is to walk up to people and introduce myself. I’m not sure it’ll work. Not if I want to get up close and personal…</p><p>Not like <em> that. </em>(Though I guess I wouldn’t be opposed.) They use glamours, or skin suits or something. They like to seduce their prey, I guess, kind of like sirens or faeries. </p><p>I slip onto a barstool and order a beer, keeping careful watch as the bartender pours. She slides my drink over, and I twist around in my seat after taking it. <em> Looking for one…  </em></p><p>Or I could wait for him to come to <em> me. </em>That doesn’t often work with magickal creatures and Maybes—they tend to stick to themselves—but it might just do the trick this time. </p><p>I peel off my jacket, trying to look like bait.</p><p>Like prey.</p><p>(It’s not hard. I’m a snack, and I know it.)</p><p>I’m down to the last sip of my beer when a guy slides into the empty stool next to me. A bit too close for comfort. He’s as handsome as a movie star, all eyelashes and cheekbones and undercut. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, which sets off his pale skin… pale enough to <em> almost </em> be green.</p><p>Maybe it’s a stretch. Or maybe I’m <em> right. </em></p><p>“Hey,” I say.</p><p>I feel his gaze creep up and down my body. “Hello.”</p><p>I offer my hand. “I’m Shepard. From Omaha.”</p><p>He holds on a beat too long. His hand feels cooler than the average person’s.</p><p>“Adrian.”</p><p>I smile and try to tamp down my nerves. “Can I buy you a drink?”</p><p>He shrugs.</p><p>I gesture to the bartender. “I’ll have another. And put whatever he’s having on my tab, please.”</p><p>“You’re a polite one,” Adrian says after ordering, his gaze searing into me. His eyes are green. Not quite. Glittering green-ish. Like an emerald smashed into shiny powder.</p><p>“I’m from the Midwest,” I offer as an explanation.</p><p>“You won’t last long like that up here in Boston.” I hear it now; a hint of a British accent. “You’ll be eaten alive,” he croons.</p><p>I raise my eyebrows. “I think I can handle myself.”</p><p>Damn, he’s handsome. He looks like Timothée Chalamet. All jawbones and bedroom eyes. </p><p>
  <em> Jesus. </em>
</p><p>I angle my glass, but I can’t see his reflection. Maybe if I get a spoon or something…</p><p>“Where are you from?” I ask.</p><p>“Essex.”</p><p>“Long way from home.”</p><p>Adrian accepts his drink with a nod and trails one long finger around the rim. “Could say the same about you.”</p><p>I shrug. “I get around. I mean—” I chuckle. “Not like that. Not exactly.”</p><p>He raises a pierced eyebrow. “Do you?”</p><p>Holy shit, I want to—</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>(Well, yeah, exactly.)</p><p>“I travel,” I clarify. I swirl my beer around and take a sip, then call over the bartender. “You got any happy hour specials?”</p><p>She’s a fearsome woman with the thickest Boston accent I’ve ever heard. She looks like a Barda. (Like Big Barda, the DC superhero.) “Happy hour’s illegal here,” she says flatly.</p><p>“You’re joking!”</p><p>She huffs.</p><p>“Okay, guess not.” Happy hour <em> being </em>illegal should be illegal. “Well, got any… regular specials?”</p><p>“Bangers and mash,” she says. (It sounds like <em> bangas and marsh, </em>in her accent.)</p><p>“I’ll take one, thanks.” I turn to Adrian. “Want anything?”</p><p>He shakes his head and takes another pull of his drink. His ears seem a little pointed. But maybe I’m just seeing what I want to see. </p><p>There’s an actual reason I’m here. <em> (Not </em> for sex—though I wouldn’t be opposed…)</p><p>“So… how’d you end up in Boston?” I ask.</p><p>“Could ask the same of you,” he says. </p><p>
  <em> Not very forthcoming, is he? </em>
</p><p>His eyelashes flutter in a way that’s frankly criminal. Jeez, I should stay on task. They’re known to <em> eat </em>people, or something like that—I’d be an idiot to go home with this guy if he really is what I think he is. </p><p>(I might be an idiot.) </p><p>“Solving a mystery,” I say, not entirely untruthfully.</p><p>It’s all one big mystery. Our world. The world hidden right under the surface of our own, intertwined with it, overlapping. It’s all <em> right there. </em>If only you know where to look.</p><p>Adrian narrows his silvery-green eyes. “What kind of mystery?”</p><p>
  <em> I should probably play dumb. Dumb and flirty is what they want... </em>
</p><p>“You know,” I say absently, “digging up info. Like—” I cut my gaze over in what I hope is a sexy way. “Hot guys’ phone numbers.”</p><p>He rolls his pretty eyes. (But I catch the hint of a smile.)</p><p>I order us another round of drinks when my food arrives. And then I unwrap my cutlery and pretend to play with my spoon, twirling it between my fingers.</p><p><em> (Bang </em>ers and mash. Ha.)</p><p>“What about you?” I ask, to distract him. I pass the spoon to my other hand and take a bite with my fork. </p><p>“Came for work,” he says vaguely. </p><p>I don’t want to press him; he might get spooked off. “You live around here?”</p><p>“Nearby. But we don’t have to wait.” Adrian inclines his head toward the bathrooms, at the back.</p><p>
  <em> That’s where they eat people. </em>
</p><p>All the reports from England—they were gobbling people up at bar restrooms in Essex. Seducing them, leading them in… and then, <em> poof. </em>Nothing left but bones in the toilet.</p><p>I think that’s how they glamour. They steal their prey’s skin suits and wear them.</p><p>I can hold my own in a fight, but I’m willing to bet I’ll be dead meat before either of us get to see… well, any other kind of meat.</p><p>I lean into the bar. “I’d prefer something a little more intimate.”</p><p>“Classy, are you?”</p><p>“You could say that.”</p><p>I angle my spoon again, and… </p><p>
  <em> A-ha! </em>
</p><p>Deep green skin, bloodred lips. Still as handsome as a model.</p><p>
  <em> Goblin. </em>
</p><p>I fucking knew it.</p><p>(Did he <em> eat </em> Timothée Chalamet? Or does he just look like that?)</p><p>I shovel another bite of potatoes into my mouth and move my glass to hide the spoon from his view. Jesus, this bar is <em> crawling </em> with goblins.</p><p>Not all of them are hot, with their glamours. Some look like normal guys or frat boys in Vineyard Vines hats. Some look like Timothée Chalamet over here.</p><p>We know more about goblins than most magickal creatures. We know that they have a monarchy, that there’s some international coalition of goblins, and that they eat people. (For fun or for food, we’re not sure.) That they’re all crazy handsome, for some reason. </p><p>(Except the corn goblins. But I think those are more like distant cousins.)</p><p>The one thing we don’t know is where they live. Where they’re coming from. And how they reproduce. (There’s never been a female goblin sighting.)</p><p>I push my food away, pay my tab, then send Adrian my best sexy look, filled with classic Shep charm that (I’m sure) everyone loves. “What do you say we get out of here?”</p><p>He sends me a roguish grin in return. It’s a pointy, foxy, dangerous look on him. (And super hot.) “Yeah, alright.”</p><p>When we stand up, he hooks his fingers in my belt loops and kisses me. (He tastes like metal and booze.) And then I take his hand and follow him outside.</p><p>Here goes nothing.</p><p>Adrian stops in front of a brownstone on Mass Ave and shimmies the door open. I watch his narrow hips and long fingers, thinking about his face reflected in green.</p><p>“You’re a goblin,” I say before we go in.</p><p>He freezes, then turns his head. “Not the nicest thing to say to the bloke you’re about to screw, but—”</p><p>“I’m serious.” I take off my glasses and clean them. “I saw your reflection.”</p><p>He turns fully at that, haloed in the light from the stairwell. His Timothée Chalamet-face is still intact (and perfect). “Is that the mystery you’re solving, then?”</p><p>I shrug. “Part of it.”</p><p>“Are you a mage?”</p><p>“No. Normal.”</p><p>He checks me out again from top to bottom with an almost bored expression. “Aren’t you scared?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Well then.” He pokes a tongue into his cheek and grins. “Come on up.”</p><p>His glamour fades away as we walk; by the time we get to the third floor, his skin has bled from white to green. (So cool.) He wrestles open his door, flicks on the light, and kicks off his boots. I look around; it’s kind of shabby, but clean. <em> “This </em> is your… goblin lair?”</p><p>Adrian (if that’s even his name) raises that goddamn eyebrow again. His piercing glints silver in the low light. “You think we live in lairs?”</p><p>“I wasn’t sure.”</p><p>“We don’t.” He leans against the doorframe and crosses his legs. “The ones in England have got a king—at least they did, before this kid… Simon something, killed him. Anyway, he’s not <em> my </em> blasted king. We came to America to, well—” He waves a lazy green hand. “Same old story, right?”</p><p>
  <em> Interesting. </em>
</p><p>“What do you do, then?”</p><p>“What is this, a job interview?” he says.</p><p>“Not at all.”</p><p>I peel my coat off and hang it up near the door, then bend to take off my own shoes. His eyes track me like he’s a freaking hawk or something. I’m a little taller than him; I take a step closer, until our chests are barely a foot apart. </p><p>He’s still handsome, green like this. Maybe even <em> more </em> handsome. His eyes are like shattered gemstones in the dim apartment light, ringed by long lashes. His mouth is a red slice in the darkness.</p><p>“So… do you really eat people?” I ask in a low voice.</p><p>He grins ferally, showing off pointed teeth. “That’s one way to put it.”</p><p>And then his icy gaze narrows on me, and I know this is going to be one for the books. <em> (The </em> book.) (Maybe even top five.)</p><p>My mouth is on his before he can elaborate. </p><p><em> Fuck, </em>but he’s a good kisser. Warm and cold all at once, soft and strong and all shades in between. His hand comes up to the back of my neck, long fingers scratching at my hair. </p><p>I grab his ass and he groans, backing me up against the opposite wall. Pushing me into rough exposed brick. His hips grind against mine; I can feel he’s half-hard already. (Wonder how big goblin dicks are?)</p><p>We separate and he tugs my shirt out of my belt. His fingernails are dark blue and shiny as obsidian. I lift my arms and then hastily rid him of his own shirt.</p><p><em> Damn. </em>And it’s not even a glamour, this time. (Goblins have v-cuts. Noted.) (Or well, maybe just this goblin.) </p><p>I can scarcely believe I’m this close to a goblin and fully intact. Can’t believe I’m <em> touching </em>a goblin….</p><p>His skin is slightly rougher than a human’s, like it’s coated with that fuzzy stuff you see on succulents sometimes. Soft and rough, all at once—it seems to be a theme for tonight. His body’s sharp, angular, yet he’s melting into me.</p><p>He has nipple piercings, tiny sparkling studs. I tweak one and he groans.</p><p>I work at his belt while I kiss him again. My mouth feels like it’s melting off, but not in a dangerous way—in a luscious, sparky kind of way.</p><p>The wall’s cold against my bare back; something metal pokes me. Maybe a nail. </p><p>Adrian gets my zipper halfway down before I stop him. “You <em> do </em> have a bedroom… right?”</p><p>He chuckles darkly and leads me down the hallway.</p><p>“Thought I had you for sure,” he says as he crosses the room to turn on a side lamp. The muscles of his back move sinuously as he walks. He has prominent back dimples; I want to stick my thumbs in.</p><p>“You do.”</p><p>“Not like that.” He looks up at me through his lashes. “Thought I had you fooled, back in the pub. No one ever figures it out… so no one ever gets this far in.”</p><p>
  <em> Yikes. </em>
</p><p>“I won’t tell anyone.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>He steps closer and pushes me onto the bed. It smells like copper pennies and fancy cologne in here. There’s a romance novel on the bedside table.</p><p>Adrian’s eyes have turned hard and cold. I meet his gaze dead-on and swallow. “Are… are you gonna eat me?”</p><p>He licks his lips, and then I see it: a long, forked red tongue.</p><p>
  <em> Wicked. </em>
</p><p>He tilts his head and sends a look my way that could put the strongest person on their knees. (I’d be flushing, if I could.) He levels like he’s going to attack, prowling closer. “Only if you ask nicely, darling.”</p><p>And then he pounces.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I’m gasping and clutching the bedsheets like a freaking Victorian maiden. Who knew goblins give such good head?</p><p>(No one. Literally no one but me.) </p><p>Or maybe it’s just Adrian and his freaking forked tongue.</p><p>I drop my head back as he swallows me down. He’s moving, wrapping that tongue around me and then unraveling it. (Unraveling <em> me.)  </em></p><p>It feels warm and buzzy; I think his saliva has something in it. Like Icy Hot. It’s all a game of contrasts with this one; opposites colliding. (Shit, hope I don’t get poisoned from it.)</p><p>Maybe that’s how goblins numb their prey. Kiss them until they’re woozy and sparking with pleasure.</p><p>(I prefer this way.)</p><p>He scratches up my stomach and pinches my nipple. I cry out, smushing my face into the pillow. (My glasses are broken, somewhere.) (Happens a lot.)</p><p>Adrian pulls off with a sinful sound, trailing saliva. (Is it shimmery, or am I imagining that?) He flicks out his forked tongue and licks his lips. I shudder.</p><p>He nudges into me with a slick finger. I look down; the green is stark against my skin where it disappears.</p><p>He crooks his finger, and I moan.</p><p>He pulls out and rubs a teasing circle. “Not yet.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>He sucks two fingers of his other hand into his mouth, then reaches down. “Goblin saliva’s antiseptic. And a bit… relaxing.”</p><p>“That’s handy.”</p><p>“Handy…” He chuckles as he reaches down. “I like you.”</p><p>“Most…<em> ” </em>His head’s blocking the view, but I can feel him start to make small circles. “Most people do,” I manage.</p><p>When he stops, I drag him up by the hair. Green face. Green moles. Conniving bastard of a mouth. I pull him to me until we’re tangled.</p><p>He croons when my lips brush his ear, so I do it again. (It <em> is </em>pointed.) I nibble along the sharp green tip of it, and he leans into it. He turns and buries his face in my neck, inhaling. </p><p>“Delicious,” he murmurs. He presses searing kisses to the side of my neck.</p><p>“You <em> sure </em> you’re not gonna eat me?”</p><p>“Not like that…” Adrian raises his pierced eyebrow, and I shiver. “But I do want a taste.”</p><p>He licks a long stripe down my chest, grazing lightly with his teeth. I fist a hand in his dark hair, but it’s like corn-silk; it slips right through my fingers.</p><p>He pushes my knees to my chest. I spare a moment to be worried about the vulnerability of this whole thing before I remember that if he wanted to kill me, he’s had plenty of chances. </p><p>Also, how many guys get to say they got eaten by a goblin and lived through it?</p><p>Adrian looks up. His eyes look a little more glimmery, like he’s something out of an animated movie. He smirks at me. “I don’t get to do this often. Not with humans, at least. So I want to hear you say it.”</p><p>I tense under his hands to stop the anticipatory shakes. “Say what?”</p><p>He licks a teasing stroke up my cock. “Tell me what you want, Shepard.”</p><p>I swallow and manage to summon my confidence. I raise an eyebrow back at him. “I want you to show me what that <em> wicked </em> forked tongue can do.”</p><p>He smiles, baring sharp teeth. </p><p>And then he does.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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